


Liar Liar

by Maisie_top_trash



Series: Eating Disorder AUs [4]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anorexia, Anxiety, Depression, Eating Disorders, Isolation, Oneshot, Purging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 07:25:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14397153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maisie_top_trash/pseuds/Maisie_top_trash
Summary: Liar. It was a liar. He was a liar. They were all liars.





	Liar Liar

**Author's Note:**

> TW for eating disorders including purging, food and numbers, please be careful

“See, I even cut it up into little bites for you.” His mom rambled just to fill the awkward silence as she placed the plate down in front of him, slightly closer to the fork than the knife on the placemat. “And I know that makes it like there’s a bit more on the plate, but I promise there’s not, and I’m not expecting you to have it all, I just, this is another chance for you to try what you can, okay Tyler?”

She’d cooked him the same meal as the previous night. He’d left that one too. 102g of grilled asparagus tips, 2 grilled flat mushrooms, 74g of swede and carrot mash, and 2 Quorn sausages. He’s watched her from his stool in the kitchen, on the lookout for any attempt to add butter or stir in extra calories in some other inventive way. She’d done it in the past, and he wasn’t falling for it again. Even though he knew full well that he wouldn’t eat any of it, it still had to be right.

“Do you want some blackcurrant squash in your water?” She asked, knowing there were 5 calories in a serving. He knew too.  
“Red Bull Zero please.” His voice was scratchy and unfamiliar.  
“No energy drinks Ty, you know the rules Dr West set.”  
“They were set weeks ago and I know you bought some this week, I saw them in the groceries. Why get them if I’m not allowed them?” Tyler’s eye contact remained on the spotty tablecloth.  
“They’re for emergencies only.”  
“I haven’t eaten in 3 days, what counts as an emergency?”   
“Ty,” she sighed, knowing full well that he wasn’t asking to prove a point, that he was asking because he was willing to starve as long as she proposed, and longer. 

“Look, have a decent attempt at dinner and you can have half a can tonight and the rest tomorrow.”  
“What counts as decent?” He started eyeing up the bite size chunks of vegetables, a gagging sensation already threatening to become reality.  
“Let’s say a sausage, a mushroom, a spoonful of mash and 3 asparaguses?” She listed casually and immediately his eyes swelled with tears. He wasn’t emotionally available enough to let them trickle down his cheeks, but it was an automatic reaction to being so utterly overwhelmed by something he feared so intensely.

“Too much?”  
“Too much.”  
“Well what are you thinking love?”  
“That I wish I was dead.”  
“Tyler.” She warned but he wasn’t joking in the slightest. “How much food do you think is realistic for you to be able to cope with this evening?”  
“Nothing.”  
“Well that’s not good enough Ty.”  
“I already had enough calories today.”  
“How?”  
“I made Zack a sandwich as a snack when he got home from school.”  
“And you had some?” Mom looked hopeful.  
“No. But I touched the bread and the ham.”  
“Sweetheart, how many times, you don’t soak calories up when you touch food. Digestion doesn’t work like that.”  
“Liar.” He mumbled.

“I need you to eat something Tyler, and neither of us are getting down from the table till that happens.” She told him, and it was a threat that she often used. Usually they’d sit for two hours before she’d give up, occasionally three, the number of times for four hours could be counted on one hand, and one particular night in the summer they were still sat at the table when Jay came down for breakfast the following morning. He never caved and she never learnt.

“Where’s easiest to start? Should we both have a nibble on an asparagus tip?”  
“No.”  
“Mushroom?”  
“I’m going to say no to everything.” He warned, fingers tugging at one another, hidden, protected, underneath the table.

“It’s weigh in tomorrow, you do know that right?”  
“Are you suggesting I fake an even higher weight by carrying food in my system?” Tyler asked, knowing he would instead be pulling the same stunt except with 2 litres of water. A gram per ml, 2kg extra on the scale.  
“Of course I’m not Ty, I think if they see how much you’ve lost since last time then maybe they’ll be able to offer even more help.” Even more than the 3 hours he already had to sit through every morning at outpatient clinic. Law of diminishing return. More wasn’t going to help.   
“So why bother?”  
“You need to show them you’re trying, otherwise-“  
“Otherwise what Mother?”  
“Otherwise they’re going to make you go inpatient Tyler.”  
“That’s what they always say, that’s what you always say, and yet, here I am?” He shrugged.

“Dr West said you’re on your final warning though, didn’t he? You had to gain at least 1.5kg and I can tell you’ve lost dramatically.”  
“I’ve gained.”  
“You haven’t.”  
“I have, and anyway, he’s been threatening me with inpatient since I was 15. I’ve been on my last warning about 5 times.”  
“So what? So you’re going to keep going, keep starving, until he admits you?” She asked, and he picked up his plastic cup of water, hand shaking as he lifted it to his cracked lips and sipped a few drops. “Because if that’s what’s going on then I’ll admit you myself, save you before it gets even worse.”  
“That’s not what’s going on.”  
“Then what can I do Ty?”

“Please can I get down from the table?” He asked quietly.  
“No.”  
“Please.”  
“If you eat one mushroom.”  
“Please, I want to call Josh.”  
“And you can, after you’ve eaten a mushroom and an asparagus spear.”  
“You said just mushroom before!” He exclaimed and those familiar tears reappeared along his lash lines.  
“Well I want you to eat it all Tyler! But I’m trying to help you out here, meet you in the middle, a compromise.”  
“And I want to die but I’m still alive, so we both-“  
“Tyler Robert, baby, I’m gonna stop you right there because if you’re trying to suggest I should let you not eat just because you haven’t killed yourself then you’re delusional. If I let you not eat then you will die, you will have killed yourself, you w-“  
“Can I get down?”  
“No.” she sighed, rubbing her eye then leaning forwards on the chair at the end of the table, adjacent to him. He just tugged his fingers.

“What’s your favourite thing on your plate?”  
“I hate it all.”  
“I think you like the mash, how about 3 spoons and you can get down?”  
“I don’t want to.”  
“I know you don’t want to, but I don’t want to watch my son die.”  
“I can’t Mom.”  
“And I can’t either baby.”

“You don’t, you don’t understand.”  
“I think I do Tyler. You’re terrified of eating because your brain likes to trick you into thinking that it’s going to make you gain a ridiculous amount of weight instantly and you hate the way you look and you want to be even thinner because you can’t see how tiny you already are. For whatever reason, your weight and your worth are hand in hand for you, and you think people only care when you’re skeletal. You also feel you have no control over anything in your life, and your calorie intake is something you do get to manipulate and be in charge of, and it’s become a way to discipline and punish yourself, it’s -“  
“Enough.” He had to stop her, because even though she was trying to say all the right things, it actually sounded like she was reading straight out of a leaflet.

“Come on, we’ll do it together,” She stood up and went over to a drawer, then pulled out a spoon for herself before sitting down next to him and putting his fork in his hand. He flinched away from her but didn’t drop it. “It can be a casual thing, we’ll just have a conversation about something different, so you can distract yourself and then, when the time is right, just have a big old forkful Ty.”  
“I can’t.”  
“Yeah you can angel.” Mom ate a spoonful of the orange mash and the pressure on his shoulders quadrupled.  
“I can’t.” He whispered again, and that time a hot tear did manage to escape down his cheek. It paved the way for many more to follow.

“Why don’t you tell me about your day? What did you do after clinic whilst your siblings were at school?” She asked, but it only reminded him that he was isolated from them and isolated from all his friends because he had to be taken out of school and none of them cared enough to call and ask why. His therapist has suggested they were being respectful, giving him space, but he knew the truth. The final few months with them, he’d been so withdrawn and so locked up in his own head that he struggled with even basic small talk, let alone asking for help. He’d pushed them away.

“Well I went to work this morning and the roads are getting really icy, in fact I think it might almost be time for the gritter trucks to come out, and-“ Whilst Mom talked, he managed to lift a loaded fork up to his lips and scrape half of it into his mouth, gagging at the unfamiliar texture of food. “Good job Ty!”  
“Can I get down?” Tyler half begged with tears streaming down his face and lukewarm mash pressed against his gum and his cheek.  
“Swallow it for me?”  
“Can I get down?” he asked again, sobs threatening to fight against his forced gulp.  
“Can you try a little bit more for me? One more mouth-“  
“NO!”  
“No, okay, then have some water and you may leave, but I am going to lock the bathrooms for a while…” She explained but he stood up, chair screeching as the legs scraped the floor, then bolted straight out of the kitchen and raced as fast as his weak legs could carry him up the stairs before finally reaching the relative solace of his bedroom, slamming the door closed and sliding down it in a fit of hysterical sobs.

After a few heaving breaths he reminded himself of the urgency of the situation, knowing every second counted, and he lunged towards his chest of drawers, yanking out a pair of socks from the top compartment. 

His mom knew about the purging and was slowly cracking down on all his methods, had started locking bathrooms, removed his waste paper basket, thrown away all the Tupperware in the house, banned him from having water bottles in his room, chucked away all the Ziploc bags he had bought, even taken his potted plant when she noticed he’d become desperate one night and resorted to the soil. 

Now he’d sunk to a new low and used one hand to stretch the elasticated top of the sock wide whilst using his other hand to reach deep into the back of his throat and irritate it with his fingers until eventually making himself gag, which was shortly followed by the ejection of foul tasting sludge that vaguely resembled the huge serving of swede and carrot mash he’d been force fed moments ago. He only prayed he’d got it out fast enough for the weight gain to be minimal.

Not satisfied that he’d brought up everything, Tyler put his shaking fingers back down his throat.

 

 

Tyler had first been sent to Oaktree Recovery Clinic by his family doctor when he was 14. After his mom had discovered some healing wounds on his wrist, she had dramatically marched him down to the doctor’s office and demanded he get a mental health assessment. Of course the man wasn’t trained is sickness of the mind, but had given Tyler a questionnaire to fill out, and he had foolishly ticked a couple of boxes that hinted towards mild body image issues. 

He’d been sent away with handful of leaflets for counsellors and centres, and mom had researched each and everyone and settled on what she thought was the best. A woman with an addiction to pant suits and pushing her glasses up and down the bridge of her nose for a therapist, a Wednesday evening at the local community centre for group therapy, and good old Oaktree for the minor eating issues.

Eating disorder clinics don’t care about mild issues.

When his mom first signed him up, he hated his body but didn’t do much about it except cry and cut. Nonetheless they booked him in for weigh ins every 6 weeks and then waved him goodbye. They offered no therapy, no coping strategies, no meal plans, just numbers for a file that would never be looked at, but Tyler became determined to be looked at.

Oaktree didn’t give him any traditional help until his BMI on the excel spreadsheet was programmed to turn the little cell orange rather than green, but they did help him to understand that people only care when you’re skinny. Additionally, sitting in a waiting room with other people using restriction as a method to get through each day inevitably lead to competition, seeing them every appointment and comparing his weight loss to theirs. He had to be smaller, he had to win, he had to.

And that was how he met Josh.

Josh had always been and would always be prettier than Tyler, prettier and lighter and far more delicately beautiful. He was a little older and had been a patient there for far longer. He’d been signed up by his parents when he was 12 and had progressed through the system considerably quicker than Tyler, going straight into therapy and then an outpatient program before being admitted to inpatient and eventually sectioned and tubed. Against his will his weight had been forced back up to a green cell on the spreadsheet and he’d been discharged, gone home for a month, then relapsed and repeated the whole process. 5 years later, he was on his fourth admission.

Oaktree was one large building with different wings for different severities. Josh was the other side of the facility to him, the area for genuinely sick patients, meanwhile Tyler was stuck with the pathetic wannabees who didn’t make the cut to play in the big leagues where the stakes were high. But he was determined to join them, determined to cut down the pounds, determined to be with Josh.

“Tyler? This way please.” A nurse called his name and he went to stand, but his mom wrapped her long fingers around his wrist and held him painfully tight.  
“Baby, whatever your head is saying, promise me you’ll get blind weighed?”  
“Mom,” Tyler growled a little, embarrassed as the bony girl sat opposite judged him, her eyes glancing up and down his body.  
“Promise me.”  
“Stop it.” He snatched his arm back and nursed the red marks that would turn to bruises on his fragile body whilst scurrying across the waiting room and following the member of staff down the cold corridor, the smell of bleach burning up inside his nostrils.

“Sit.” Her voice was a little hoarse as she gestured to the ugly blue chair intended for him whilst she logged back into her locked computer and clicked a few icons to open his file up. “So, how have you been Tyler?”  
“I’m good.” Tyler didn’t even try to be convincing, knowing she didn’t really care, just needed her numbers so she could tick her boxes.

“You’re looking a little pale, can I check your blood pressure?”  
“Even if I say no, you’ll still do it anyway.”  
“Only took 3 years for you to work that one out.” She laughed as she took the contraption out of her drawer, and Tyler wanted to slap her. “Roll your sleeve up sweetie, bit higher than that.”  
“I’m trying,” he wanted to scream in her face to fucking wait and it wasn’t his fault that the tight shirt couldn’t push right over his fat shoulder, that he was doing the best to shed the flab but for now she’d have to give him a few seconds, but instead he focused his limited energy on taking deep breaths.

As she wrapped the cuff around his bicep tightly and it started to pinch him whilst inflating, the tightening brought his attention to his biggest insecurity – the size of his arms. Scared to look at the humiliating spectacle of blubber bulging and overflowing the band, Tyler looked in the opposite direction and attempted to blink his tears away until she hummed then ripped the Velcro off so he could hastily cover his arm back up again.

“It’s low sweetie, really low, have you been trying to incorporate more salt in your meal plan like we talked about last time?”  
“Yes,”  
“Have you really Tyler?”  
“Yes,”  
“Alright, if you say so. I’m just going to put a little note here on your file so that Dr West can see.” She typed away, pressing each key firmly, and Tyler kept himself distracted by tracing over the open wounds on his purging-finger knuckles, knowing what was about to happen but begging himself not to break down over it. 

It was a lose-lose situation. He wanted the scale to go up because then people would get off his case and he’d be given the freedom he needed to start dieting and exercising properly, and it meant that his strategies were working. Today he’d opted for water loading. In the past he’d tried wearing his heaviest jeans and hiding little weights in his clothes, but he’d been caught one time so now they insisted he stripped down to his underwear. Other methods included sneaking pennies into his socks, not going to the bathroom in the days leading up to weigh in day, even using salt to try and manipulate his bloating and fluid retention. But ultimately the most effective method was the simplest, put heavy substances into his body temporarily and the scales would say he was even heavier. 

Two litres of water, two extra kilos of increase. It wasn’t hard to drink it all, he was hungry and it filled the space – the harder job was to keep it all in him until the numbers were recorded. Months of experimenting had taught him that the best time was 20 minutes before they left the house, because mom always checked on him 10-15 minutes before they had to leave, and any earlier then he would be forced to pee too soon. There were few things worse than watching your hard work go down the toilet moments before weigh in.

One thing that was worse was seeing the number go up. He needed it to go up, he needed to keep the snappy nurses away and make his mom happy. He needed it to go up. And yet even the thought of an increase nearly made Tyler burst into sobs.

“Okeydokes, do you want to step behind the curtain and slip off your clothes?”  
“Can I just take off my shoes and do it in my shirt and pants?” Tyler asked in spite of knowing the answer already.  
“Then we’re weighing your clothes, not you.”  
“They’re, um, they’re just cotton,” he picked at his joggers whilst biting his bottom lip, tears welling along his lower lashes. “It’s only cotton, please,”  
“Tyler, if you want a higher weight then you know what you’ve got to do sweetie. Your meal plan, how many calories is it?”  
“2400,”  
“So if you’re managing it then you should be gaining. Are you managing?”  
“Yes,”

“If you’re not, you won’t be in trouble, we understand that sometimes things get a bit too much and 2400 might be a bit overwhelming, but if you communicate that with us then we can work out a plan to slowly build you back up Tyler. I’m not a dietitian, however I’m fairly certain that she makes plans as small as 1500 for outpatients, so if you need it then I can book you in to see her?”  
“I’m eating 2400 already.” Tyler lied to her, wiping away a single tear in hopes that she wouldn’t notice.  
“Alright, it’s not my job to interrogate you, I just want to help you.”  
“I’m fine,” another tear.

“Let’s get you on the scale.” She sighed, gesturing to the blue curtain in the corner of the room. “You can keep your socks and underwear on, everything else on the bed please Tyler. You know the drill.”  
“Please, I’ll, I’ll get weighed next time, can we just, can, um, can you put me down as non-compliant?”  
“People don’t usually ask politely to be non-compliant.”  
“I don’t want to kick up a big fuss, I just, I, I, I, please.” The tears were faster and yet Tyler didn’t reach up to mop them away.

“Why don’t you want to be weighed?”  
“Just don’t,” his blurred vision flicked up to look out the small window on the far wall, then went back to playing with his shaking sausage fingers.  
“We can blind weigh you? You don’t get to know the figure, just Dr West and me?”

“I know I’ve gained.” Tyler admitted, squeezing his dry and cracked lips together tightly to hold back a sob that was threatening to claw up his throat.  
“Did you weigh yourself at home?” The nurse asked, and he truthfully shook his head no. Mom had thrown away the scales months ago. “Then how do you know Tyler?”  
“I can see it.” He tucked his feet up onto the chair with him, hugging his flabby legs close to his chest and resting his right temple on the top of his knees with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Is today a bad body image day? Are you worried about me seeing you without your big hoodie to hide behind?”

Tyler hated the word big.

“It’s difficult, I know, you never want to step on the scales and you always put up a bit of a fight, but you nearly always find the courage to do it and it’s always fine Tyler.”  
“It’s not fine.” Tyler squeaked as he properly began to cry, breath ragged as it left his lungs and chest shaking uncontrollably. His heart was racing and his mind spinning, and all he wanted to do was fade away.

“Would you feel more comfortable if I got a male nurse? Or maybe I could ask your mom to join-“  
“NO!”  
“Okay, no mom, but I’m not going to let you leave without you trying a bit harder to find the strength to do this Tyler. Last weigh in you were right on the border of when Dr West chooses to take action and make people inpatient, I can’t in good conscience skip today’s weigh in because you might be at the BMI point where you need to be admitted and I would be standing in the way of you getting the treatment you need. I have a duty of care to you, and that includes getting you the appropriate assistance for your situation. Maybe I need to make you see a dietician, maybe it’s time for a sit down with Dr West and your parents, maybe inpatient is required.” 

“D-d-do-on’t n-nee-eed inp-pa-patient.”  
“I really hope that’s the case. Inpatient admissions aren’t fun Tyler, you’d have daily weigh ins, compulsory meals or NG tube feeds, no exercise allowances, restricted contact home. It’s something you should do everything in your power to avoid, and one of those things is being compliant as an outpatient. Dr West is far more likely to have a dialogue with you if you’re open and honest about how you’re coping, but if you’re hiding things then he’ll have no option but to rule with an iron fist and be safe rather than sorry by taking more extreme measures to protect you from yourself.” The nurse told him. “I know you want to get better Tyler, so please can you take a step in the right direction and get on the scales for me?”  
“No-o, I-I’m n-not, I’m n-not getting w-weighed, I, I r-re-refu-use.”

 

 

40 minutes later, Tyler and his mom walked out of the ugly building and across the parking lot, its disgusting grey asphalt littered with potholes turned to pools of water after the previous night’s rain. They were in complete silence, Tyler’s hands buried deep in his pockets and his hood pulled up in a pathetic and feeble attempt to hide his red puffy eyes and tear stained face.

The nurse had spent another 10 minutes attempting to persuade him to give a reading, but at the end of the day he was still technically an informal voluntary patient so she couldn’t force him into doing anything he didn’t want to, and so he was released. Not ready to face his overbearing mother, Tyler had escaped to the bathroom and peed away his 2 kilograms then puked up any remaining residuals of the mash from dinner before finally trying to wash his face and clean himself up a bit before his mom’s inspection. 

He clearly hadn’t done a good job as she sighed when they climbed into the car and didn’t start the engine.

“I’m, uh, I’m a little confused Ty, and I’m hoping you can help me fill in some of the blanks?”  
“Kay.”  
“They said if you lost anymore then they’d hospitalise you, I have that in writing from Dr West, and yet nobody asked me through to discuss the situation even though I know for a fact you’ve lost significant weight these past 2 weeks.”  
“I haven’t.”  
“And secondly, you were gone 45 minutes Tyler. What happened? Did you have the meeting without me? Because you’re a minor and they should have had your parent be present, so I can kick up a big fuss if they left you to represent yourself alone.”  
“There was no meeting Mom.” His voice was croaky, not in an attractive husky way, more like a stupid squeaky way.

“Where were you then?”  
“She wanted to do loads, blood pressure, temperature, height, lots.”  
“45 minutes baby, it doesn’t take that long for your check up.”  
“She did an ECG.”  
“Sweetie they send patients to the general hospital for ECGs, they’ve sent us twice, they don’t do them at Oaktree.”  
“Well she did today.” They both knew it was an unbelievable story, but both had grown use to Tyler’s constant lies.

“Did you get blind weighed like I asked?”  
“Yes.” Lie.  
“Good job, and did you sneak a peek at any point?”  
“No.”  
“Great, well done sweetheart.”

“Can I have my red bull now?” the only reason he even agreed to go to the stupid weigh ins was the reward he was given afterwards.  
“Of course, it’s in the glovebox handsome.” She nodded and his shaking fingers scrambled to pull the little handle and open the compartment, snaking around the can with a small smile, excited to taste something other than metallic blood that haunted his breath.

“What the fuck?!” He growled a little when he saw pale blue rather than silver.  
“What’s wrong honey?”  
“This is FUCKING sugar FREE!”  
“You like those ones poppet.”  
“I NEED ZERO!”  
“They’re both low calor-“  
“LOW?! I NEED ZERO!” Tyler screamed in her face and she gulped, plying the can from his grip to look at the nutritional content.

“7 calories Ty, 7, that’s the same as what, 3 grapes?”   
“I DON’T WANT ANY GRAPES! I WANT A DRINK!”  
“And you can have one. 7 calories aren’t going to hurt you.” She put it back in his lap, but he refused to pick it up or even look at her. With his arms crossed over his chest and his jaw clenched tightly, he stared out of the passenger window at a marking on the parking lot as his eyes clouded over with tears yet again.

“Ty, talk to me.”  
“No.”  
“What happened in your weigh in? Did you get upset?”  
“No.”  
“Do I need to call Dr West and ask what happened?”  
“Physician-patient privilege.”  
“What are you hiding from Momma?”  
“Nothing.”

“How about this, you drink that red b-“  
“NO!”  
“Hear me out young man, you drink it now and then on the drive home we’ll call in and get one of those zero calorie ones you like, and I’ll let you have that with your dinner tonight as well. Two in one day, what do you think?”  
“Here’s what I think.” He sniffed as a tear rolled down his cheek whilst he opened his door and walked several metres over to a flowerbed that circled the clinic. Without hesitating he opened the ringpull and poured the entire contents of the fizzy drink down onto the soil, shaking out every last droplet before crumpling the can and dropping it on the ground too.

“This, this is really fucking hard for me Mom.” Tyler was more honest, raw, with her once she got out of the car and stood near him. “I hate being here, I hate it.”  
“I know you do Tyler.” She nodded as he mopped his cheeks with his sleeve.  
“It’s so hard, and horrid, and I would rather be anywhere else than in that fucking building.” His voice was shaking as she listened. “But I do it, I come, I turnup and I do my best.”  
“And I’m so grateful and so proud of you sweetheart.”

“You know I don’t like to treat myself, don’t think I deserve it, but this is the one time I let myself have a reward for doing something I find difficult, and, a-and, and you turned it into another challenge.” Tyler squeaked and his mom teared up just watching him. “Please Mom, I can’t take anymore.”  
“Oh honey,” she swooped forwards and scooped him up as he began to cry, holding him against her bosom and rocking ever so slightly with her lips pressed against his crown. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, we’ll get you some safe ones, Momma’s gonna make it all better I promise.”

 

 

“Hey hey hey, what’s cooking good looking?” Josh’s grin filled the screen as the FaceTime call connected, and immediately Tyler smiled. His best friend looked sickly, skin deathly pale to the point of borderline translucency, and deep undereye bags scoring harsh lines down his cheeks. A recently placed feeding tube was taped to the left side of his face, distorting the shape of his nostril ever so slightly, but a raw red scab on his forehead stole the attention on first glance. In spite of all of that, his white teeth shining through his cracked lips gave him his distinctive cheeky smile that warmed Tyler’s slightly broken heart.

“Hey,” Tyler yawned.  
“You look like shit.”  
“Ah it’s always a pleasure Josh.” He laughed a little whilst laying on his bed, propping his phone up with the recently purchased pop socket. “Can’t say you’re looking so peachy yourself,”  
“What can I say? Just another glamourous day in the life of a sectioned psychiatric patient.” Josh laughed too, reaching up and fiddling with his tube. It was a bad habit that Tyler entirely associated with him.

“You go to any therapy sessions today?”  
“No sir, I am on bed rest currently thanks to good old Dr Westy.”  
“You don’t appear to be in bed Joshua.” Tyler tutted at the boy who was sat cross legged on his linoleum floor with the phone propped up against the wall.  
“Guilty, but I am sat completely still so if Westy wants to be pedantic then I’ll just fight him.”  
“I mean I would back you up, but fighting staff was what got you moved to the high security unit last time and I miss my partner in crime when you’re not allowed your phone, so pleeeeeassseeee don’t get in a bust up Josh?”  
“Fiiiiiiiine, Westy shall not taste my fury tonight,” he rolled his eyes jokingly and Tyler smiled. “Just for you baby boy.”  
“Thanks handsome.”

“How bout you? Saw you strutting that tushy across the parking lot from my window earlier. You go to group?”  
“Nope not today, today was weigh in.”  
“Oh shit yeah, sorry, totally forgot to call you this morning to check you were okay.” A more serious tone fell across his friend’s voice.   
“S’fine.” Tyler lied as he shrugged.  
“How did it go?”  
“I, uh, I wouldn’t say it was my greatest hour exactly?”  
“Oh yeah? What happened?”  
“Refused.”  
“Again Ty?” Josh shook his head disapprovingly, but luckily a small smile grew again so he knew he wasn’t going to have to deal with another lecture. 

“I don’t get why you bother hauling your sexy butt out of bed just to come here and refuse to be weighed. Why not have a lie-in?”  
“You know why Joshua.”  
“To earn the red bull?” He laughed a little, and Tyler cracked a small guilty smile too. “You’re an addict, an actual addict.”  
“At least it’s not meth.”  
“At least it’s not meth, you raise a good point.”

“You been eating?”  
“Yeah,” Tyler nodded naturally.  
“Everyday?”  
“Yeah,”  
“How many times a day?”  
“Usually 3 or 4.”  
“Liar,” Josh lips pursed together as he hugged his skeletal knees with his whisper thin arms covered in white dressings. “If you’re gonna lie, at least go for something believable.”  
“Well you’re the master, you know best.”

“You look thinner – and don’t say thank you Ty.”  
“S’the black, it’s slimming.” He tugged on his t-shirt a little.  
“Oh yeah totally, that explains why your cheekbones are looking so hollow.” Josh raised his eyebrows. “I think you look more attractive when your face is softer, less sharp, less angular, less bony,”  
“If you’re gonna lie, at least go for something believable.”

There was a sad moment of silence between the boys, but it was interrupted when Tyler’s mom came into his bedroom without a knock, carrying his worst nightmare. A plate.

“Mom! Please! How many times? You have to knock!”  
“Sorry sorry, my bad. Hey Josh,” She sat down on the bed next to him.   
“Hey Mrs Joseph,” Josh waved with his happy little grin.  
“How are you darling?”  
“I’m good, yeah, good thank you,”  
“What happened to your forehead? Did you pass out and hit yourself?” She had no issue asking such an invasive question, and Tyler was about to sweep in and reassure him that he didn’t have to answer, but he had already started talking.

“Oh no, I just got overwhelmed yesterday and banged my head against the wall for a little while, but it’s all good now. Just stuck with this.” He pointed to the swollen scab then shrugged.  
“Poppet, I’m so sorry, are things not going so well?”  
“Mom, seriously?” Tyler hissed.  
“It’s fine Mrs Joseph, I don’t mind you asking. Things are kinda rocky right now, but I’ll be alright in the end I promise.”  
“Are you allowed visits at the moment?”  
“I think so.”  
“Well maybe Ty and I can come see you soon.” She reached up and went to stroke his hair, but he flinched away.

“Either we’ll visit you, or if Ty gets admitted I’ll come see you both, how does that sound?”  
“I’m not going to get admitted Mom.”  
“Is inpatient on the table?” Josh asked.  
“No.”  
“Yes, he hasn’t eaten for 3 days.”  
“I ate yesterday Mom! Please, just leave!” Tyler cried out and she just sighed whilst Josh watched silently.

“I came up to ask you what you want for dinner, and to give you these to try and munch on whilst I’m cooking.” She took the plate off the bedside table and put it in his lap. 10 pieces of apple were arranged in a spiral that quickly became blurred with swollen tears.

“I was thinking I’d go off your meal plan and just do some more carrot and swede mash since you did so well with it yesterday? Does that sound okay?”  
“No butter.”  
“I’ll do the low fat one, and only a small knob.”  
“None.”  
“Tyler it won’t taste g-“  
“None. Or I won’t even try. And I’ll be able to tell if you’re lying.”  
“You’ll have to eat more to make up for the fact it’ll have next to no calories in it.”  
“Mom.”  
“Fine,” she sighed and stood up.

“Josh, try and help him with the apple for me? You’re far better with him than I am.”  
“I’ll do my best Mrs Joseph,” his friend said over the phone, and Tyler just wished everyone would shut up, just shut up and leave him alone.

“I love you sweetheart,” she took his head in both hands and held him still as she kissed him on the crown.  
“Get out.”  
“I’m going.” She walked towards the door again. “It smells over here, have you purged somewhere?”  
“No! Get out!” He lied, and again she sighed and left, closing the door behind her.

Josh didn’t say anything, only stared with those same eyes that everybody else stared at him with recently. He knew what he was going to say, he was going to start nagging him about eating and gaining weight and warning him that he didn’t want to be in hospital and he should do everything possible to stay out. Everyone said the same things to him, and all Tyler wanted was somebody on his side because currently his allies totalled at none and he was lonely. So lonely.

“Don’t.” Tyler warned Josh whilst grabbing a tissue of his bedside table and quickly mopping up a few escaping tears, then tossing the apple further down his mattress and using both his hands to fiddle with the individual layers of the tissue instead.

“Ty,”  
“I said don’t.” He snapped a little, but the tears and the trembling fingers gave away any hint of a strong façade. “You don’t, no, you don’t get to lecture me on intake whilst being on tube feeds and fucking bedrest Joshua.”  
“Ooh, using my full name hey? Am I in trouble?” Josh tried and failed to lighten the mood. “Sorry Ty. Is there anything I can do?”  
“I’m fine.”  
“Liar.”  
“You’re a liar!” Tyler hissed back then turned away from the screen as he bit his cracked lip and tried not to burst into sobs.

“We’re both liars, this is what anorexia does, it lies to us and it makes us lie to our closest friends and lie to our families and lie to ourselves. And I know full well that every time I talk to you about recovery and try to inspire you or manipulate you or guilt trip you into eating, I am being a hypocrite. I’m a complete hypocrite, but-“  
“Josh,” Tyler whispered.  
“Yeah?”  
“You’re doing it again, the, the talking, you’re always trying to get in my head and make me eat so you feel even more smug about the fact you don’t. Stop it. I’m sick of you using me as a pawn to make yourself feel better.”  
“That’s not what I’m doing, honest, I just don’t want you to end up in here. I’m trying to warn you-“

With that classic line from Josh, Tyler pressed the red icon and hung up with an emotional choke. Josh loved that one, the good old ‘I’ve been doing this starving malarkey far longer and far more hardcore than you so lemme give you some advice’. It was patronising, and belittling, and the last thing Tyler needed from his best friend after the day from Hell. Another day from Hell. 

Legs shaking and unsteady, Tyler climbed off his bed with the plate in one hand and sniffed as he made his way across the landing and over to his brother’s bedroom.

“Yeah? Come in,” The younger called out in response to his timid knocking.  
“Hi,” Tyler snaked through the door.  
“Hey, you alright?” Zack asked with a knowing and gentle smile, closing his laptop to give him his full attention.   
“Yeh,”  
“You’ve been crying. You’re still crying right now.”  
“I’m not, I, I haven’t.” He wiped some tears and edged closer. “Mom asked me to bring these up for you, she thought you might be hungry.” Tyler placed the apple slices on the bed next to him.  
“They’re for you.” It didn’t stop him from chucking one of them down his throat.

Tyler was just as bad as Josh, making others eat so he felt prouder for restraining.

“I’ll have the other 9 if you have that little piece, how bout that?”  
“I’m, I’m still full from lunch, but, uh, but thanks anyway.”  
“What did you have for your lunch?”  
“Burrito, white rice, half chicken, half sofritas for the flavour, no beans, pico de gallo, extra sour cream, cheese and lettuce.”  
“Is that code for nothing?”  
“No no, Mom stopped at Chipotle after weigh in. It was a treat for gaining past my target.”

“Do you need to talk Ty?”  
“I’m fine.” Tyler smiled.  
“Sure you are bud, sure you are.” Again with the patronising, “Certain you don’t want any of this apple?”  
“I’m super full, honest. I’ll pop if I have any more!”  
“You won’t.” The sympathetic smile was condescending. “I’m watching It’s Always Sunny, it’s the episode with Charlie’s night man musical, wanna watch with me?”  
“Oh no no, thanks, but no thanks, got other stuff to do,” he brushed a tear away casually, hoping his brother wouldn’t notice. Of course he noticed.

“Do you need something from me? Want me to help you out with some of that stuff of yours?” Zack understandably asked when Tyler didn’t make a move to leave.  
“Um,” Tyler really wanted a hug. “No, I’m fine, thanks though.”  
“Sure?”  
“Yeh, I’m sure,” he left to go and purge.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment or even just kudos if you enjoyed, it makes such a huge difference to writers like myself <3


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